


Mirage

by Siff



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Very much AU, i have no idea how to tag this, why do i always hurt gin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siff/pseuds/Siff
Summary: Ichimaru Gin goes for his price, having paid for it with blood and betrayal.He should have known it wouldn't be so easy.





	Mirage

The house is empty. No wonder, since only three people know it exists. Two people now.

Soon one, if he doesn’t stop the bleeding. He moves forward slowly, leaning his entire body against the wall for support. He’s leaving a trail after him on the white surface, bloody and wet.

He had expected Aizen to fight, to hurt him, but this is messier than he had thought it would be. The tattered remains of his captain’s rope are no longer white, but filthy and covered in blood; both his and Aizen’s. They will find him soon. If they don’t follow his blood, then the flutter of his reiatsu will lead them straight here.

He tries to control it but the pain is making it hard to focus.

He holds his hand over his right eye. It hurts more than the gash in his side or the broken bones, and he doesn’t dare to remove his hand from the bloody mess that was his eye, fearing the worst somehow. Ridiculous, since it has to be the lightest of his wounds.

His steps are too slow. He tries to walk faster but his body is fighting him, yelling at him to _stop_.

He can’t. Not now.

The door is locked but he presses against it lightly with his fingertips, letting a small pulse of reiatsu go through it. It silently slides aside and he enters Aizen’s laboratory.

He stumbles through the wide room, his feet heavy and clumsy. He ignores the large screen and the tables, knowing well where it is. The cabinet needs more than just touch to open it but open it does. He swallows with difficulty as he looks inside, easily finding his prize.

A small glass canister, holding something more worth to him than anything else in this wreathed world. Almost.

He opens his good eye wider as a blackness begins to creep in around the edge of his vision. He blinks, tries to clear it but it’s not helping. The movements make a fresh stream of blood run down his face from his empty eye socket, slipping past his hand and dripping off his chin.

He can also feel it run from the wound in his abdomen. He’s running out of time.

He takes the canister, feels it hum between his fingers and snakingly holds it to his chest.

He’s done it.

It knows what has happened, somehow. Maybe it saw it… or felt it. Felt the change in the world as soon as his sword went through Aizen’s flesh. _It knows your desire_ , Aizen had told him.

 _Know mine, then_ , he thinks to the little shivering ball of energy. _Give it back to her_.

Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. He holds it close, smearing blood over the glass, and makes his way back to the door. He needs to hurry. They saw him, the vice-captains. All gathered, looking dumbstruck at the bloody sight before them. Hinamori’s scream still rings in his ears.

His mistake. He should have been faster but Aizen had been so strong. So clever.

It would have worked, Aizen’s plan, if he had followed orders. Chaos would have run through Soul Society like a flood. Divisions would be at each other throats, captain fighting captain. Captains fighting their own vice-captains.

Strange how such a powerful place can crumble by the slightest touch. It’s like a row of dominoes. Aizen had known the right one to push and the rest would follow, one by one. It would have worked, he knows it. But it wasn’t meant to be.

The pieces had begun falling in a neat, planned pattern until he had decided to step into their path.

The beginning chaos was all he needed to do his own. Aizen, not showing it but clearly thrilled by how easy it all was, had relaxed for just a moment. Touching the blade was nearly too easy. Killing him hadn’t been.

A cough rakes through him, sending more blood down his chin. His eye hurts.

It takes a moment for him to realize someone is standing by the door, white hair illuminated by the light coming from the hall. His hold on the canister tightens.

“Ichimaru.” The words are brimming with anger. Reiatsu reaches out to him, familiar and cold. Very cold.

He bows his head slightly. A pain shoots through him, for he can feel her too, standing just behind her captain. He’d hoped to do this differently.

“Captain Hitsugaya,” he smiles, teeth bloody, and raises his head. He can see the startled expression on the younger captain’s face. “Guess you found me.”

They are both shocked by his appearance. It nearly makes him laugh. Do they really believe anyone could kill Aizen and get out of it without a scratch? Aizen may have played the gentle caring man he far from was, but he was powerful, even in disguise. Shedding his pretense, he was downright deadly.

Hitsugaya draws his sword.

He slowly removes his hand from his eye – blood runs like a river down his cheek and he licks his lips without thinking about it – and reaches for his own blade. His bloody, shaking fingers close around the hilt.

He doesn’t have the strength to fight. To run perhaps, but that means getting past him. And her.

“Gin,” she whispers and her voice is like a warm breeze. She saw him too, as he pulled his sword from Aizen’s flesh. Doesn’t matter, she can hate him all she wants, as long as he gets it back to her.

“Rangiku,” he says and has to swallow. Blood is filling his mouth and he doesn’t know if it’s from his eye or his lungs.

The taste brings back unwanted memories and he shakes his head slightly. Blood flicks off his chin and hair, flying across the room to land on the floor. There’s a lot of it. That too brings unwanted memories.

“Captain, they’re coming,” Rangiku announces, her voice bringing him back, chasing away shadows.

He swallows the blood and closes his eyes briefly. He can feel them too, strong and coming fast. A rough guess is Soi-Fon, Kuchiki and… ah, the old man himself. He’s actually flattered. And running out of time.

The canister in his hand begins to vibrate, forcefully and he nearly drops it. He clenches his teeth and focused on not letting it slip from his fingers. _Give it back to her_ , he begs it. _Don’t let this be in vain_.

The little ball of energy makes a sound, soft and barely heard. And then the glass canister chatters in his hand. Hitsugaya yells but he doesn’t hear him. His focus is completely on the little ball, now lying in his hand, warm, too warm, burning his skin.

Then, slowly, it becomes two. Separating from itself. Another little ball, softly pink, much more comfortable in temperature, is suddenly lying in his hand too. He recognizes it.

 _Thank you_ , he thinks to it. It hums softly in his hand.

As he looks up, words on his tongue, reiatsu crashes on him. His knees give out and he falls. A blur of motion is suddenly happening around him. Shinsō is pulled from his fingers, and his arms grabbed tightly. He closes his fingers around the precious treasure in his hand. He must give it to her.

He can’t really see anything now, it’s all just black and red. Someone tries to pry his clenched fingers apart.

“Rangiku,” he hisses. “It’s Rangiku’s.” His fingers break under the force. The burning heat in his palm disappears.

The reiatsu rises to incredible heights, going through him mercilessly.

Everything goes black.

 

~*~

 

For the first time in his life, the truth is the only thing that can save him.

So he tells them everything.

It takes days. He’s weak and they have only healed him enough to keep him alive. Black bonds around his wrists cuts him off from his power, cuts him off from Shinsō, the only being who has never judged him in his life-long struggle to get close to Aizen.

He talks until his voice dies, and he talks some more when he gets it back.

Some of them doesn’t believe him. Some are shaken. Some simply doesn’t care.

What will they do with him, he wonders? With the Counsel 46 dead, the highest-ranking source of authority is the captains, and with three missing – Tōsen has fled, they tell him, and he wonders how long he will last – there is just as much confusion amongst them.

They are going to vote on his fate.

When his story is told, he’s locked away. They visit him, one by one. To talk, to sneer, to stare.

Some have pity for him, for his broken body. His eye is gone, his bones still broken. Why fix something you might destroy fully later. If they let him live, then they might help him.

He doesn’t care. He can handle pain.

She doesn’t come. Probably not allowed. But Hitsugaya does, and he brings the best news of his life.

“I gave it to her,” he tells him. He stands by the door, as far away from the cell as possible. “She didn’t know what it was until she touched it. She’s stronger now.”

He looks at Hitsugaya, his good eye open, his smirk gone. “Thank you,” he says, truly meaning it. Hitsugaya leaves without another word.

 

~*~

 

He never gets to know how they vote.

On that day the decision is made, he sits in his cell, doing nothing when the door suddenly explodes. Blown apart in a thousand pieces, and Aizen steps into the room.

Dressed in white, with his glasses gone and his hair drawn back, he looks more alive and powerful than ever.

“Gin,” he greets.

For a short moment, he stares at Aizen. Not believing… or rather, believing it too much. The black bonds might cut him off from his own power, but not from others’. He can feel Aizen. His former captain is letting his reiatsu reach out towards him, hitting him with the strength of his anger. It stuns him, makes his weaken body seize up and freeze. A sensation he knows all too well, only this time, his own powers are gone, his shields, making it worse. Making it more true.

Aizen is alive.

The shock passes surprisingly quickly.

As the reiatsu draws back, leaving him weaker than before, he can’t help but chuckle. He bows his head so his hair falls over his eyes; both of them, one fine and one ruined.

“Should have known it was too easy,” he says.

“You should,” says Aizen and steps closer. The bars turn to dust before he even reaches them. “I’m disappointed.”

“Never my intention,” he says truthfully.

Aizen reaches out and places his hand on his head. “I know.” He curls his fingers, grabbing the hair in a painfully tight grip. He pulls his head up so their eyes can meet.

Aizen is staring coldly down at him.

He smiles, for it’s the only thing he can do. Aizen narrow his eyes ever so slightly, and with a single step, removes them both from the room.

**Author's Note:**

> First story of 2019 (and the first in months, but let's not go there!)
> 
> I like writing vague stuff about these two since I ship them like crazy, but I also love the version where there's a knowledge of hatred between them. They see each other, and yet they stay close, waiting for the other one to make a move.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!


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